For the First Time
by Deadwoodpecker
Summary: A series of firsts for Mr. Ronald Weasley.


The first time Ronald Bilius Weasley ever kissed a girl was when he was five years old.

The memory blurred in his brain, and he didn't know if he even remembered, or if he'd been told about it enough times that he thought he did. What he did remember were little impressions: autumn at the Burrow, the twins wearing matching green sweaters racing ahead of him. Ron had been angry, probably with Ginny (even if he didn't quite remember his first kiss, he _did_remember that his fights with his younger sister had been explosive), and running on his short little legs after Fred and George.

The girl had been a Muggle, and a year older. Ron had met her before; she'd even told him once that his family was known in the village for being weird. Ron had wanted to punch her, but Ginny had tripped her instead. This time, however, she'd chased him -- he remembered running -- and when she'd caught him, she'd planted a wet kiss right on his lips.

At least, that's what Fred and George always said when they wanted to torture Ron. But whether they'd been standing there watching or not, or if they'd invented the details (like Ron screaming like a girl and pushing her away and onto the ground), Ron didn't remember. He only knew that it was a source of great hilarity among his family. Even his dad had asked him once, when he was fifteen, if he'd scream and push Hermione away if she tried to kiss him.

But that had been at Grimmauld Place, and his dad had obviously just been trying to cheer him up. Arthur had no inkling that Ron had thought and thought about Hermione kissing him. Once -- pathetic moron that he was -- Ron had even tried to recreate his first kiss. The Burrow in autumn (even though they were always at Hogwarts when the orchard was brilliant with reds and yellows and oranges), and they'd hide in the trees. The twins wouldn't show up; no one would see them. And when her eyes closed, and her lips got closer, Ron wouldn't push her away, but he'd try to kiss her back.

_She thinks you're a moron,_ Ron thought, looking up at the dingy ceiling of the room he'd been assigned. Even though it was huge -- three times the size of the space in his attic room at the Burrow -- Ron was uncomfortable. It was drafty and dark, and he'd had to move his wanking activities exclusively to the shower. _What if the portraits were watching?_ He'd accidentally said her name the first night he'd been there, and he'd felt sick about it for almost a week.

Just when he was thinking of making his way down to the creepy bathroom on the second floor (as opposed to the creepy bathrooms on the first floor and the fourth floor) and taking his second shower of the day, the twins Apparated into the room with a loud crack.

"Stop doing that!" Ron shouted. "Stupid -- buggering--"

Fred slung an arm around his shoulders. "Is that any way to talk to your favorite brother?"

"Bro_thers_," George corrected sternly.

"How right you are, George," Fred said easily.

Ron rolled his eyes.

"We've got more Extendable Ears," George whispered in a low, urgent voice. "And Sirius said that Dumbledore would be here tonight... maybe they'll let something important slip."

All thoughts of having a wank flew out of Ron's head (even though he'd caught sight of Hermione's bra in the laundry, and that had really started the fantasies going). The Order of the Phoenix was more important... Harry was already going to be furious with them for not being able to tell him anything. Ron had made it his mission to find out as much as he could about what the adults were up to, and was planning to offer Harry all his knowledge as a peace offering.

"I'll go get Hermione," Ron told the twins.

They exchanged annoyingly knowing looks. "I'll bet," George smirked.

"Bugger off," Ron muttered darkly.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ron's second kiss was more one of defiance than anything else.

Lavender was pretty. She had really straight hair -- it wasn't bushy at all. Her eyes were a clear blue, rather than dark brown. One of her top teeth was slightly crooked -- it wasn't any big deal, though. It was just a tiny imperfection, not anything that would have to be fixed by magic. Or even by orfo -- orthodennics -- Muggle teeth healers. Ron was not Lavender's first kiss, but the idea didn't bother him at all.

Ron hadn't waited for Lavender, nor had he nurtured hopes that she'd look past the fact that he was a bloody moron most of the time. He wasn't jealous of her two previous boyfriends; he did not want to tear Seamus or Justin limb from limb. Lavender didn't challenge him, didn't make him feel guilty, didn't make him feel insecure. She'd wrapped her arms around him after that brilliant Quidditch match -- her body had been pressed right up against his in a way that Hermione had never done -- and she'd kissed him.

No chasing, no agonizing, nothing but enjoyment.

And, for the first few weeks, Ron had enjoyed himself a great deal.

"Ron," Lavender moaned against his mouth.

It was right before Christmas, and Lavender had pulled Ron into a broom cupboard right after his last class. Their lips had met (Ron had finally mastered the art of kissing without banging their teeth together) furiously, and Ron recognized the signs that a pleasurable fog was descending over his brain. He was hard, and he'd lost the self-consciousness that came with having an erection when in close proximity to a girl.

"Yeah," he mumbled. Her hands ran up and down his back, and he copied her motion.

She didn't say anything, but gripped his hips and pulled him closer. Ron groaned, pushing himself against her stomach. He liked it better when she didn't talk, anyway.

"Ron," she said again, a few minutes later. "Ron -- my robes."

Ron pulled his head back. _Bloody hell,_ he thought grumpily. All Lavender wanted to talk about was her bloody robes; and really, this wasn't the moment to discuss fashion. "What about them?" he forced himself to ask.

"You can, well..."

For the first time since Lavender had snogged him in front of all of Gryffindor Tower -- including Hermione -- she sounded uncertain. Guilt rose up in him, and Ron pushed it away. "I can what?" he asked, playing with a lock of her hair, and trying not to sound like the world's biggest arse. _If she wants to talk about her robes, I'll let her,_ Ron told himself firmly.

Lavender rolled her eyes. "You can be so thick sometimes," she said, sounding both annoyed and affectionate.

She sounded a little like Hermione, and Ron bent his head and kissed her again. His mouth slid over hers, and his tongue slipped inside. Lavender rocked up onto her tiptoes, responding to him firmly. And she reached for his hand, bringing it to her breast.

Her breast.

Ron squeaked and then froze. His palm was full of the warm weight of Lavender's right breast, and little fireworks started going off in his brain, shooting straight down to his groin. It felt different. He'd touched her bum before, and had gripped her elbow. He'd hugged her, and had tilted her chin up to kiss him. But this part of her body -- even clothed -- felt completely different than any other part.

_Breast. Breasts, breasts, boobies, tits..._

"I - I - I," Ron stuttered. Mercifully, she took pity on him and shut him up by attaching her mouth to his once more.

And as Ron stroked her through the fabric of her robes (he could barely feel a hard nipple), and pushed more insistently against her, he wondered if Hermione had let Krum do this to her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The first (and only) time that Ron ever broke up with a witch was slightly scary.

"What were you doing up there alone with her?!" Lavender screeched at him. This was the third time she'd said it, and every time it grew louder and louder. Everyone turned to stare, and Ron's ears felt like they were on fire.

"I wasn't doing anything," Ron said.

He could tell by the look in Lavender's eyes that she didn't believe him. Ron couldn't blame her. She'd suspected all along (and had been quite vocal about it in these last few weeks) that Ron carried a torch for Hermione, and that they were secretly in love with each other. Ron didn't believe the latter, but the former was true enough. Maybe Hermione might have given him a chance if he hadn't been a bloody moron about her snogging Krum, but now she probably wouldn't.

"I wasn't," Ron said defiantly.

"I know what happens in the boys' dormitories if a boy and a girl are up there all alone," Lavender said loudly. "Do you think I'm an idiot? I may not be a know-it-all like _her_," she said scathingly, gesturing at Hermione.

"Don't talk to her like that," Ron said belligerently. "I told you, we weren't up to anything--"

"Just like _we_ weren't the other day?" Lavender asked, voice heavy with sarcasm. Her hands were on her hips, and she glared at him. Ron wondered why he'd ever thought her attractive.

Glancing around the room, trying to come up with something to say, Ron noticed that at least half of the room was watching Ginny and Dean row next to the hearth. That was something, at least. "Listen," he said, pointing his finger at her, half hoping that it would hack her off enough to break up with him. His mum hated when he pointed, at least. "You don't need to be talking like that. I told you nothing happened, and you can either believe me or not."

"Not," Lavender flung at him. Her eyes were sparkling with tears. "I _don't_believe you. I think you've--"

"Just stop," said Ron.

"_Fine,_" Lavender sniffled, the tears spilling down her cheeks. Ron winced; he bloody hated crying women, and he didn't blame Harry for finding Cho such a pain. "I think that _we_ should just... stop."

"Do you really mean that?" Ron asked, unable to stop himself. Hermione, next to him, snorted very, very quietly. "I mean... uh... if you want to break up..." he forced his face into unhappy lines, even though he felt like smiling. The giant squid had released him from its tentacles, and it was extremely difficult not to show his appreciation. "Er," he finished lamely, not wanting to hurt her feelings, but also not wanting to say anything to make her not break up with him.

Lavender burst into tears in earnest. "Fine. It's _over_," she said dramatically. Parvati Patil chose that moment to come over to her best friend, fling her arm around Lavender's shoulders, and glare at Ron as though she were a basilisk. Ron involuntarily took a step backward, and Hermione's snort was louder this time. Even in the midst of relationship drama, Ron could feel the heat emanating off of her body, warming him.

_Do I say goodbye to Lavender, or is that just rude?_ Ron pondered this, and by the time he figured out that he probably should say _something_, Parvati had already led her away.

"Well, that went well," Ron said, just to break the silence.

Hermione reached up and gently smacked him on the back of his head. "You're so insensitive sometimes," she said fondly; her eyes sparkled with mirth, and Ron grinned stupidly at her, rubbing at where she'd touched his head.

"I reckon I am," he said cheerfully, just as Dean came storming by them.

"Want to go do our homework?" Hermione asked. "Harry won't be back for a while."

"Absolutely."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The first time Ron ever slept beside a witch, it was almost completely platonic.

And not just because Harry was there, although that seemed both highly annoying and oddly fitting.

Hermione was a few inches above him, laying on a pile of cushions he'd insisted she take. Harry was snoring, and Ron could tell by her deep, even breaths that she was asleep as well. It had been a very long, terrifying day, and every time he thought of the Death Eaters at the Burrow, icy fear flooded his belly. But Hermione grasped his hand firmly, a comfort even in sleep. As the minutes wore on, Ron gradually calmed.

He stroked the palm of her hand gently with the pad of his thumb, safe in the knowledge that she was asleep and unaware. _She grabbed _my_ hand,_ Ron thought, a little flare of triumph going through him. His copy of _Twelve Surefire Ways to Charm Witches_ was safe at the Burrow probably being drooled on by the transfigured ghoul; Ron couldn't consult it about what this meant.

Hermione had wanted them to sleep all together. But Ron wasn't special; she'd wanted Harry there too. Ron had tried almost everything in that book, and it hadn't worked. She'd been polite, and sometimes he thought he saw something deeper than fondness in her eyes. And there'd been enough sexual tension on the dance floor just a few hours ago that Ron had known that it couldn't have come just from him.

_Why do girls have to be so bloody mysterious?_ Ron asked, feeling greatly put out. Did Hermione have feelings for Ron? Or Harry? Or Krum? It was maddening, it was.

But Ron didn't move his hand, and he soon drifted off to sleep with Hermione's nestled in his.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The first time Ron ever made love to a woman, it took him by surprise. But it was with Hermione, which made it perfect.

The little room at the Hog's Head Inn was bloody warm. Ron pulled away from Hermione, panting for breath, and loosened the collar of his robes._Bloody hell._ In the year they'd been together, Ron still hadn't gotten used to her hands on him, and the fact that she let him put his hands on her.

"What are you smiling at?" she asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Ron said. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and Ron pressed a kiss against her hair. Though they remained on the sofa rather than on the bed -- and Ron only thought about the bed and what laying down on it might entail every three seconds -- Hermione straddled his lap quite blatantly.

Ron moved his hips against hers, smirking when she rolled hers against his. Although they hadn't had sex -- _yet_ -- they'd done almost everything else; an erection wasn't something to be embarrassed about any longer. It was something to revel in.

Ron beamed.

"Why did you rent the room?" Hermione asked shyly.

Ron considered this carefully, debating what to tell her. Should he tell her that he'd hoped that a private location would inspire her to give him the go ahead for sex? That he'd hoped that they could finally do it? That he wanted to be as intimate as he could with her, and that they could lose their virgin status together?

_Bad idea, Ron._

"I don't think they'd like it if I touched your breasts in public," Ron said. When Hermione leaned back to give him a skeptical look, he took advantage of her new position to unbutton her blouse. "Ahhh," he said, making short work of her bra. Just as soon as he thought he couldn't get any harder... it helped that her nipples were hard too.

He stared at them, feeling his mouth water. Going by instincts, he licked at her right nipple, gently. Once he felt her hands in his hair, pulling at it, he sucked it into his mouth. "Merin, you're sexy," he mumbled. He moved his hand down her back and onto her bum; she gasped when he pulled her closer, grinding against her.

"You're the only one who thinks so," she said.

"Good," Ron said fiercely, knowing that in moments like these, the brightest witch Ron knew needed affirmation. "I don't want any other bloke knowing that you're sexy." His fingers crept under her skirt from behind. She'd let him do this before -- several, even many times -- but it still seemed like she could stop him at any moment.

_Who says I don't like danger?_

"You didn't bring me here to have sex with me?" Hermione asked.

Ron looked up at her, still latched firmly to her breast. He couldn't read the expression in her eyes. "Are you offering?" he asked, sounding more bold than he actually felt.

"I've done a lot of research, and I think that it wouldn't be unusual for us to take the next step," she said in a rush; she sounded much more vulnerable and young than she normally did. "Plenty of both Muggles and wizards think that for two people to have sex when they're in love with each other is only natural and normal. Granted, nothing else about us has ever been normal, but in this way, I think we could be. But only if you want to," she added. She'd scooted back, and Ron no longer felt that delicious pressure on his erection.

Her words were making his ears buzz.

"But if you don't want to, if I've gotten completely the wrong idea--"

Ron interrupted her by dumping her on the bed. Her mouth closed with a snap, and her eyes widened. Vanishing her skirt, shirt, and bra -- leaving her in only her and knickers -- Ron stared at her hungrily. "Yeah," he said in a raspy voice. "Yeah. I think we should be as normal as possible." Feeling completely unselfconscious, Ron pulled his shirt over his head and kicked off his trousers. "I'm certainly ready for more."

He moved to lay on top of her. They'd seen each other naked before. He'd even used his tongue to make her scream. But it felt new and different. "I can't believe I get to stick it inside you," he said before he could stop himself.

_Probably not the best choice of words._

Hermione's eyes rounded with shock.

_Could you be less romantic, you moron?_ Ron wanted to strangle himself. Or at least place a silencing charm on himself before he said something _really_stupid. But instead of hitting him upside the head or throwing him off her, her entire body started to vibrate with pleasure.

"Sorry," he groaned, dropping his head on her shoulder.

"I love you," she told him, instead of calling him a prat.

Ron lifted his head and kissed her, hoping his mouth would be too busy to say anything else moronic. "I love you too," he told her. _That's good, Ron,_he congratulated himself, before kissing her again. And again. Before he was even aware of it, she'd vanished their underwear. His penis was pressed tightly against her, and he rubbed gently.

"I'm so... well lubricated," she said, grinning.

"You know big words turn me on," Ron smiled back. But he wanted to check for himself; his fingers drifted down between their bodies. She hadn't been lying; Hermione was very wet. He slipped a finger, and then two, inside her, stroking her walls. His thumb stroked across her clit; she arched her back, the hard tips of her breasts poking his chest.

It didn't take much time at all before she was writhing beneath him, moaning his name. "_Ronald!_" she gasped. "Just... stick it in me, already."

Ron gaped at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were glassy, but she managed to wink at him. As he removed his fingers and positioned himself against her, they were both laughing. It seemed fitting. They always seemed to be laughing, fighting, or loving. But the laughter died as soon as he slipped the head inside her.

Instead, he grunted, almost shocked at how good it felt. She was tight and wet, completely encasing him. Sweat beaded on his brow. "This is incredible," he said. "Am I -- is it hurting you?"

She shook her head from side to side, staring at him with great concentration. "It feels -- wonderful," she sighed. "I've always wondered if... broom riding... witches are less..."

But she seemed unable to complete a coherent sentence. Ron felt a flash of triumph, pulling almost all the way out of her and pushing back in. This time, she met him halfway. _We're having sex! We're having sex!_ his mind kept chanting. He increased his pace, watching carefully as her face and then her breasts flushed pink.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, pressing kisses all over her face. He even landed on on her closed eyelids.

"Ron -- that's -- you--"

His orgasm started in his back; gritting his teeth, he concentrated on not finishing, not until she had too. Her pants turned into moans, which turned into breathy little screams. "Come on," he said. "Come on, love, get there with me."

Instead of replying, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside her. Ron grunted loudly. Desperately, he thrust into her, faster and faster. His arse was clenching and he didn't think he could last one... second... longer--

Hermione screamed, and Ron could feel her rippling up and down his penis. And he let go, groaning as he finally allowed himself release. His chest was so tight, he could hardly breathe. His movements slowed and he dropped down, remembering, just in time, not to crush her. She stroked her nails down his back.

"That was bloody brilliant," he said once he could speak again.


End file.
